


Miles and Miles Away

by LadyAJ_13



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M, Oblivious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Pre-Canon, Pre-Slash, Presents, Wooing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-23 15:42:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19704433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAJ_13/pseuds/LadyAJ_13
Summary: Aziraphale knows he and Crowley have a professional working relationship. Really, very professional.No one told Crowley.Perhaps no one told Aziraphale, either, what a professional working relationship actually looks like.





	Miles and Miles Away

**Author's Note:**

> Title a shamelessly stolen Queen lyric, from 'Spread your Wings'.

Aziraphale and Crowley didn't meet up often; just once or twice a year to swap notes. Occasionally they'd skip a year or two if either felt their side was getting a bit too suspicious, or watching too closely. It's not like they needed to be in close contact as business associates, it just made things easier to talk in person1, if and when such things could be arranged. After all, it's not like they were friends.

But in between, Crowley had formed a habit of appearing little gifts into the bookshop, from his travels. Some were decidedly demonic (Aziraphale had no idea why anyone would want their pen to do _that_ when turned upside down) but most... weren't.

Oh, they were signed 'C'; a scarlet letter picked out on a black gift card and tied with ribbon uncomfortably close to the colour of blood. Each one a little temptation, a little potential wickedness from demon to angel. But Aziraphale merely made sure not to over indulge. 

He'd made the bottle of Chateau Lafite Rothschild last a week. The Neuhaus chocolates... well, two nights was quite the willpower when faced with those pralines! And he'd had no need to weave any kind of miracle on the bunch of Middlemist's Red camellia flowers; quite of their own accord they'd bloomed most of 19852. 

He made them last, is the point. He was the Angel of the Eastern Gate, and would not fall prey to a demon's wiles. But there was also no reason to pass up such pleasures entirely. To _waste_ – that would be the real sin3. Besides, the longer the bottle or the box or the vase sat around, the longer Aziraphale got to feel that bubble of happiness in his chest any time he caught sight. 

And that little bubble lightened his step, made miracles spring to his fingertips, made imagination well up to provide nudges that would go on to make people truly _Good._

He was so glad he enjoyed his work.

1Aziraphale was aware this was probably mostly on his part, but honestly, what had been so _wrong_ about calling cards? Or carrier pigeons?

2It was enough to make you worry a little about modern cultivation methods.

3Aziraphale may have spearheaded the anti food waste campaign, quite by accident, while dining out one evening.

**Author's Note:**

> Save me from the lure of footnotes...! Three in a fic only a couple of hundred words long. I'm sorry.


End file.
